L'espoir fait vivre
by the red hero
Summary: The Battle of Atropatene was a great loss for Pars. As Arslan falls into a fitful sleep in Narsus' cabin, he has a curious dream involving a gentle, exceedingly elegant, pink-haired lady, and an even more curious conversation and gathering between a concept and himself.


**L'espoir fait vivre**

 _~by the red hero~_

 ** _Summary:_** _The Battle of Atropatene was a great loss for Pars. As Arslan falls into a fitful sleep in Narsus' cabin, he has a curious dream involving a gentle, exceedingly elegant, pink-haired lady, and an even more curious conversation and gathering between a concept and himself._

 **0oo0oo0**

* * *

It was the dead of the night, and aside from the occasional noises of crickets and the snorting of their horses. Daryun and Narsus might have stood up late, perhaps talking to each other about what they missed in each other's absence. Elam, the diligent boy, might have been tending to their animals, or had maybe fallen asleep early, in preparation for his chores in the next day.

All but one person held a strange tranquil grimness within the cabin in the woods.

Arslan, the white-haired fugitive prince of Pars was lying on his bed, trying to claim his much-needed sleep after the exhausting and terrifying ordeal that was his maiden battle. But every time his blue eyes closed, all he could see was the rot of corpses, his retainers and friends lying dead and unmoving on the filthy ground, and Ecbatana razed to the ground by the so-called 'Servants of the One God Yaldbaoth'.

 ** _Hah_**. Servants of God, and yet they raze temples of other faiths and kill women against them? Such hypocrisy was palpable and repulsing—it made him want to heave.

But why would they…?

If they really were servants of the most honorable god, why would they slaughter and kill in his name? Would it not make sense if they preach about his legends and deeds instead? And leave the listeners to their decisions, if they want to convert to their religion?

With those and the worrying thoughts of the safety of his Lord Father and Lady Mother, Arslan, fugitive prince of Pars, once again tried to close his eyes and fall asleep.

 **0oo0oo0**

The warmth was most pleasant, and a cool wind blew and ruffled Arslan's pale hair. The smell of pine trees and the wilderness registered in his brain. But the way the presence made itself known was unlike the friendly, yet foreboding air the woods outside Narsus' house exuded. It felt ancient—older than anything, even. Like it was the first branch of life—before everything in the world, before kings, wars, lords, traitors, Pars, and perhaps even time.

...Where was he…?

The prince opened his eyes, and was startled to find that he was sitting in a banquet table in the middle of a gorgeous field dotted with all kinds of flowers, some unknown to him. Above Arslan, the sky was a friendly blue with clouds reminding him of sheep wool. Around the field was a vast forest as far as the eye could see.

The rectangular table was filled with the most scrumptious-looking and foreign meals he had ever seen. Ripe, red berries the shape of hearts were piled upon a crystal bowl, roast fowl larger than what they had at the palace, pastries that looked so strange but delicious—

A giggle startled him out of his thoughts.

Looking towards the opposite end of the table, Arslan was surprised to find a girl around his age with gentle golden eyes looking at him joyfully. She was also exceedingly beautiful. With pale skin and long hair spilling over her seat and reaching the ground the color of a cold sunset—a light shade of roses, he supposed, from what he gleaned from Narsus' lesson on colors and paints. The lady was dressed in elegant white garb reminiscent of Tahamenay's clothing but not, with a strange red jewel on her chest that pulsed with power.

"Hello, Arslan-kun." The girl greeted him jovially in the softest voice he had ever heard. "I see you've finally come here. Help yourself to the food!"

"…I-Pardon my rudeness, venerable lady, but...Where on earth am I?" Arslan asked confusedly.

"Oh, excuse me!" The girl burst into a fit of giggles, and Arslan felt his lips curl into a smile. "I forgot my manners—I'm The Law of Cycles, but you can call me 'Madoka' if you wish." The girl reached over for a pastry and bit into it. "And to answer your question, you're in my domain."

"I am Arslan, Prince of Pars." Arslan said formally, having had his tutors hammer manners into him since youth. "And… ** _where_** exactly is this place?"

"It's a land between the living and the dead—Death is the brother of Sleep, and my Domain can only be entered by those who are in need of something." Madoka smiled at him. "Now don't be shy—have some of the food!"

"…Then, I will partake of your hospitality." Arslan replied with a smile. Reaching for a rotund pastry with a sweet-smelling sheen, the prince bit into it and smiled in delight. "This is delicious!"

"I'm glad you like it!" Madoka replied. "So, Arslan-kun, what brings you to my Domain?"

"…Just as you said, I suppose I am in need of something." Arslan replied somberly.

Madoka smiled. "And what would that be? _**Wisdom**_ …? Or **_power_ ** perhaps?"

"Those would be acceptable...but as of now, I feel like I need a peace that I have lost." The white-haired prince replied softly. He nibbled on the pastry that now seemed too sweet for him. "Lady Madoka…I have lost my kingdom." Arslan replied hesitantly. "My Father and Mother remain missing and I am at loss of comrades to aid me…what should I do?"

Madoka stood up from her seat and moved to sit to the empty chair next to Arslan. "Tell me everything—I shall listen."

And so he did—Arslan told the strange lady about the battle of Atropatene, Kharlan's betrayal, the death of his retainers, Daryun saving him and swearing fealty, and his worry for the safety of Ecbatana and his Lord Father and Lady Mother.

When he finished, he looked up at Lady Madoka, who had poured him a cup of warm tea. "Tell me, Arslan…are you a coward?"

Arslan blinked at the strange question, before a wry smile crossed his face. "…I suppose I am."

"I don't think so at all then." Madoka replied with a smile as she reached out to brush a strand of silver hair away from his astonished face. "You have fallen far—away from your beloved family, your troops killed, everything has gone straight to Helheim, has it not?"

Arslan nodded his heart heavy and his eyes beginning to water.

"And yet, you **_hope_**." Madoka replied softly. She sat back, her gentle smile in place. "In the midst of death and tragedy, you hope—and yet that is not enough; _no_ …you must also work and persevere."

Arslan felt Lady Madoka embrace him—like a mother would to a distressed child. He had never felt such affection from Tahamenay. The ideal queen she might have been—elegant, beautiful and regal, but he had never felt such warmth from her.

"H-how can I attain my kingdom back…?" Arslan gasped as he felt the dam break. "How…?!"

Madoka hummed comfortingly. "Work. Make friends— ** _real_** friends. Find your way and see the world. There is but one piece of the truth you can see and find in Pars." The girl patted the distraught prince on the back. "Search for **_your_** truth—what do you want to do? For whom do you want to achieve those goals? They do not have to be grand or magnificent to matter…Let us start with what _you_ want for now."

Silence.

Arslan thought.

"…I wish to save Ecbatana and my Lord Father." He said, blue eyes flaring to life. "I…I wish to free anyone who wants to be free. I want to change the direction of Pars."

"There you have it." Madoka laughed softly as she pulled away smiling brightly. "Work towards those goals—it will be hard, and painful, and at times, you might lose heart…but _wait_ and **_hope_**."

Arslan smiled at the kindhearted lady. "Thank you for your wisdom, Lady Madoka."

Madoka smiled. "Wisdom is like air, Arslan. It comes to us when we need it the most." She pulled Arslan into another embrace. "And keep this in mind; even if you feel like the world is against you, find one person who will stand with you against all odds. And take comfort in these words:"

 ** _"Someone, somewhere out there, is fighting with you. As long as you remember, you are not alone."_**

The winds blew, and Arslan's blue eyes closed one more, as he lay in the gentle arms of Hope.

 **0oo0oo0**

Arslan opened his eyes to the sound of the gentle burbling of the lake beside the cabin.

Daylight streamed through his room, and his stomach grumbled at the mouth-watering smell from the kitchen, where Elam must have cooked something up from the bed, Arslan felt like he just woke up from a strange and wonderful dream— something that he had talked about, perhaps? Or maybe rescuing his father and being praised? He struggled to remember, but all he could recall was someone smiling kindly at him, a warm embrace, and words of wisdom.

 ** _"Someone, somewhere out there, is fighting with you. As long as you remember, you are not alone."_**

The words flashed through his mind, and Arslan felt his shoulders relax—as if he had just finished carrying an absurdly heavy load, and he was just set free of restraints—it was a strange, sad yet joyful feeling. As the fair-haired prince trudged out of his room and out of the cabin, he saw Narsus painting the beautiful sunrise—a myriad of light, warm colors that seemed to ease his worries and just take his breath away.

He had to persevere, if he wanted to make a change. Work towards his goals earnestly, openly, and honestly. A determined look crossed his face.

Arslan, Prince of Pars, would persevere, wait, and hope.

 **0oo0oo0**

 _Somewhere but not anywhere in the waking world, a bit past the tower in Avalon, where Merlin sat, watching the world through the eyes of Cath Palug (or Primate Murder, as he was usually called), in a forest filled with dreams, unspoken wishes, and flowers; a dainty girl with pink hair smiled at the young man who finally found his path—shaky, and wobbly he was, and the path would be treacherous and rough._

 _But surely, with someone as pure and earnest as him, he would be alright. He would find friends, allies, and he would, maybe find love for himself, and spread happiness and cheer wherever he went. Seek out painful and wonderful answers to his queries, grow and see the world through his own eyes._

 _Kaname Madoka, the Embodiment of Hope, The Law of Cycles smiled warmly upon the Prince of Pars. "May hope shine on your path and flowers bless the road you tread, Arslan the Liberator."_

 **~END~**

 **~DAS ENDE~**

* * *

 **A/N: Ayyy so here's another Madoka fic I made—because Arslan, the cinnamon roll, really needs the love he can get. And does anyone see the Fate Grand Order references I made? Did anyone?**

 **I just had to write about Madoka being the Mother Figure because well…Arslan is pretty lacking in the parental affection department. Also I feel really sorry for Arslan, having such a conceited father, who's like "CHARGE DESTROY LETS TALK WITH OUR FISTS" most of the time.**

 **Anyway, you get my point? Also for anyone who reads this and plays Fate Grand Order, vote Merlin for Shitty Hasubando of 2017. He IS a bishounen grandpa, but other than his…** ** _lechery_** **, I guess he's eye candy.**

 **Gods, I'm so conflicted. *sobbing* Leave a review if you see anything that needs improvement, please! Even your thoughts on the story pacing would be appreciated.**

 **Thanks!**

 **~the red hero**


End file.
